


Blood for a Silver Soul

by firelord65



Category: The Hollows - Kim Harrison
Genre: Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-17 20:50:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firelord65/pseuds/firelord65
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Post Ever After]<br/>Rachel's life is always interesting, but for once the source of her latest troubles don't directly spur from her. After getting contracted by the IS to track down a vampire-led coalition of dark magic witches, Rachel discovers that political tensions within the Vampire underworld are far more strained than her roommate or her camerilla leader, Rynn Cormell, has been letting on.<br/>Vampires are becoming dissatisfied with their lack of a soul after death and are looking to dark arts to preform what Rachel has been unable to procure for them - a way to survive becoming undead without becoming half-crazed. When undead vampires put the pressure on Rynn's region of control, Ivy and Nina are caught in the crossfire. To add to the chaos, Trent Kalamack refuses to look in to an elvish spell to aid the vampires, fearful that their already tight grip on power would cinch to strangle the elve's newfound standing in the world.<br/>Will Rachel be able to let Ivy swim on her own or will our ever-caring heroine find something up her sleeve to get Trent to see reason?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not intending this story to be anything close to what Kim releases in The Undead Pool, but I do want to see how the vamp political tensions play themselves out in my own little sandbox Cincy.  
> Also, I followed in true KH fashion and titled this story after a spaghetti western (though not a Clint Eastwood one regrettably)

                The soft sound of smooth-soled boots pounding across thin carpet pulsed in time with my slowly-climbing heart rate. Arms swinging tightly, I clenched my trusty red splat gun in a tight fist, my finger carefully wrapped away from the trigger. My breath puffed out in controlled bursts. Even if my mark started vamping out, I would be able to down him in a few controlled bursts of splat-fire.

                Tagging was second nature to me.

                I couldn’t help the sly grin that seemed to be plastered across my face as I rounded another corner. The vamp was taking us through the office building my spell had tracked him to in a rather clear cut path. Ivy’s precise map annotations stood out in my mind, even as Jenks loudly reminded me that we only had two more open-floor rooms before he would reach the confined staircase.

                “I’ve got this, Jenks,” I grunted with a nod even as I kicked my speed up a notch. My legs sailed across the blah-brown patterns of tiled carpet squares and Jenks’ wings clacked harshly as his pace began to outstrip me.

                He gave me a signal, directing me to cut left and dart straight, bringing me closer to the slim hall that led to the next room. The vamp was still taking the long way, keeping plenty of dividers and half-dead houseplants between my splat balls and him. His supernatural speed would give him the advantage, but I was hoping that I still had a few tricks he wouldn’t be expecting.

                Crossing the last yard of space, I twisted and pushed myself to turn where he was coming from. My splat gun was raised and I pumped off three quick rounds. I watched as they sailed through the air, hissing by the living vamp to harmlessly burst against the wall. “Give it up, Thomson!” I cried out even as my own momentum forced me into the slim cubical “wall”. I lost precious seconds in scrambling to stand up, but Jenks was on the vamp, his dust an exhilarated orange-red.

                I swung my splat gun wide and plugged twice more at the vamp while he batted harmlessly at Jenks. My pixy backup was expecting him, having avoided more than a few swats from Ivy in the past. I watched in rueful disappointment as the balls burst on his shirt only to puff out in a useless blue smoke. Mother puss bucket, he was wearing anti-charm gear. My expectation of the “easy” tag went up a few notches, even as my aggravation ticked sharply higher.

                “Bastard’s got deep pockets,” I hissed, forcing myself to keep after on his heels. My splat gun seemed a dead weight now, but there was always the chance that I could get his bare skin. The red plastic was cool against my grip, threatening to slip out if I loosened my frantic grip.

                There was only that one last cubical-strewn room where I could make my tag before the vamp would have his best shot of getting away. I cursed as I pounded into the room. The stupid dividers were taller in this room and the son of a bastard had already darted into the rat-race maze of taupe walls. “Which way, Jenks?” I spat, choosing to go straight while he flew up to scout.

                “Next left, then right at the fern!” he called back. I dutifully followed his instruction, risking a look down to check the hopper of my splat gun. Three charms left. Lovely. Gritting my teeth, I reached out with my mind and found a nearby ley line.

                The raw power of the line seared through my mind, following pathways that had long dulled to the pain of having raw ever-after drawn through them. I cut off the flow, spindling the energy with a breath of the word “Tulpa” barely escaping my lips. If I couldn’t bring down the vampire with my earth charms, then he would learn the hard way what it was like to be downed with the white-hot fury of the energy of ley lines.

                I could feel my legs burning, and I knew I was approaching the now-or-never phase of this tag. If I couldn’t slap this vamp down, he would be down that staircase and lost unless someone had come to back me up. Having been contracted by the ever-questionable IS, I didn’t have a ton of confidence for the supernatural police force to actually work to help me with the capture. Though they wanted Thomson caught and penned, it would be no skin off their nose to let me take the fall for a botched run.

                I spotted the vamp’s dark hair bobbing around a corner. I didn’t bother to try to soften my footsteps or breathe any softer. His hearing was good enough to have known how Jenks was breathing, never mind a lunker like myself. Instead I leaned over and charged straight ahead, my shoulder braced and my hand gripping a growing ball of gold and black tinged ever after.

                He ducked, taking my charge and twisting to force my body to slam hard against an actual solid wall. My spell crackled and died as my concentration lapsed. I forced my eyes to focus as he straightened his stature. “Well, that was hardly difficult,” he sneered. The vampire’s eyes were black, hungry and excited at the thrill of the chase. That he was pumping out delicious pheromones into the air wasn’t helping my case, even as I shoved the sensations away with practiced ease.

                “Some demon you are, Morgan,” he hissed, moving with eerie quickness to grip my throat with one hand. I swung my arm up, intending to smash him with my splat gun and damn it all if I got the crushed charms on me too. He batted it away with a smooth motion and I cringed as his iron grip tightened. My fingers slipped open and dropped the weapon.

                _Where was Jenks?_ I took a rages gasp of air as his fingers loosened a hair’s breadth, a sick reward for disarming myself. I glared daggers at the living vamp even as I was grateful that all he could do was make everything smell delicious. If he had been undead, this would have been a very different situation, involving a hell of a lot worse than warm tingles running from my hidden vampire bites down to pool in my stomach.

                His mouth split in a toothy grin and I felt my face pale. “Let’s see if I can’t knock the _terrifying demon witch_ Rachel Morgan down on her knees where she should be,” he growled. I could feel his predatory stare even more than I could see it and I tensed as he began to move his mouth towards my neck. I pulled on the line, my fingers twitching with the energy that surged along my skin. Just a moment more…

                “I do believe that’s mine,” a low voice drawled from behind Thomson. My eyes, which I hadn’t even realized had slammed shut, tore open. Impossibly close behind the living vamp was a green coated, glasses-toting man, looking ever the image of a British lord.  Only his bright red eyes, slitted like a goat, broke the illusion of humanity. Extending a white-gloved hand with an almost casual motion, the demon ripped the vampire away, tossing him through a flimsy partition to lay crumpled against a metal desk.

                “Al,” I breathed, taking the free moment to suck in a gasp of air. I tried to ignore the slight whistle to my voice. “I see you couldn’t just stay in the damn car like I asked.” I pushed away from the wall, stooping to gather up my splat gun before things turned on their head again. Or before Al could get all finicky and insisted I prep a healing curse.

                I strode over to the crossed eyed vamp, still recovering from having his skull blasted through particle board and smashed against a steel desk. “You have the right to shut the hell up and die in whatever hole you crawled out of,” I spat, pressing my splat gun against his neck. Squeezing the trigger twice, two charms burst on his exposed skin. I wasn’t taking any chances on slippery folk like this.

                His eyes rolled fully back and the vamp slumped, spelled to sleep until someone doused him in saltwater. I rocked back on my heels, looking over my shoulder. Jenks had reappeared, warbling through the air as one wing hummed out of sync with the other. “You good?” I asked, deliberately ignoring my demon teacher. Okay, it wasn’t the smartest idea, but I was miffed that he had stepped in when I had been prepped to rip the full force of a beautifully clear ley line through the vamp’s smug face.

                Jenks nodded fitfully. “Tink blasted vamp nicked my wing,” he moaned. “It’s going to take all night to let it heal.” I made a face, chagrined. It was a messy tag. We both were sloppier than usual, too many skin-on-our-teeth tests of sanity lately and too few white-bread runs. I moved my hair back, out of the way so he could land on my shoulder and take a rest. He merely wobbled over and sat on a partition, his green eyes locked on Al over my shoulder.

                Unable to ignore him any longer, I turned and looked at the red-eyed demon. He was standing innocuously with his hands clasped behind his back, whistling something in a god-awful harsh toned key. “Well?” I asked, gesturing with the hand that had my splat gun. “I’m still waiting for my answer.”

                The demon in front of me chuckled, his blocky white teeth bared in a grin. “Why my itchy witch, can’t I just drop in and see how your workday is going?” he seemed to purr. I rolled my eyes and stuffed my splat gun back into my belt. If he was calling me “itchy witch” and standing still, there was a chance that he was just bored rather than conniving.

                “Oh shut up,” I growled, but there was no fire in my protest. “I need to drag this sorry lunker,” I kicked the vamp with my thick boots, “back downstairs. Preferably by his Tink-blasted feet and letting him appreciate each and every stair.”

                Ugg, how had my life gotten to this point? Taking runs for the IS and barely flinching when big Al, scary demon from the Ever After, was jumping in to act as backup. It had been an interesting few days, now that I thought of it, but I wouldn’t have thought they would have led to this particular result.


	2. Chapter 2

                **Thirty-six hours previously…**

                My compact car slid smoothly to a stop in front of the gatehouse. I had my window rolled down enough to speak to the guard who was already walking towards me but not enough to allow the chilly air from my A/C unit to spill out. Shading my eyes with my hand, I looked up at the professional woman with a wry smile.

                “Yes, hi?” I called out. I was used to the security check at Trent Kalamack’s sprawling estate, but usually they recognized me and waved me through. One of the perks of having gained the multi billionaire bio-drug lord’s trust, I suppose. That someone had gotten out of the gatehouse and approached my car said a different story. “I’m Rachel Morgan. Trent called me earlier?”

                The guard stopped in front of my door and leaned over so she could see into my Mini Cooper. Her face was blank and professional and she extended a hand. “I’ll just need to check your identification, Miss Morgan,” she replied. “Protocols.”

                Frowning, I stifled a comment about protocols and where they could be shoved. I half expected Jenks to take up where I was lacking, but the pixy had stayed behind in the church to spend some time with his kids. He had said it was something to do with avoiding contact with grumpy cookie makers, but I was pretty certain it was more of not wanting to be reminded that we wouldn’t be visiting Ceri as well. Trent’s mansion had taken on an empty shell ever since Kusox murdered the thousand year old elf.

                I dug around in my purse, blinking my eyes quickly to discourage the sharp stinging of potential tears. With sharp motions, I retrieved my ID and passed it to the guard with no comment. She took it with a murmur of thanks, settling thin glasses upon her nose which were clearly spelled to see through illusion charms.

                Making a noise in my throat, I looked pointedly at the guard. “I know I’m not a legal citizen anymore, but my license is still a valid form of ID,” I said coolly. “And Mr. Kalamack knows that I am coming.”

                The guard’s mouth twitched in the ghost of a smile as she carefully took off the glasses and tucked them into a pouch at her belt. “I am fully aware of that fact, Ms. Morgan,” she said. “I am simply following protocol. Security measures are especially stringent for those who are visiting while Mr. Kalamack’s children are home.”

                I blinked in surprise, taking back my ID. “Oh, they’re back from the West Coast?” I asked as I managed to keep my mouth from hanging open foolishly. The damn elf hadn’t even told me! I was their godmother for crying out loud.

                The guard smiled for real and tapped a finger slyly on the side of her nose. It was an old motion I’d been seeing more lately. “I didn’t say that,” she murmured as she stood up fully. In a louder voice, she added, “You are free to proceed Ms. Morgan.” A quick nod to her companion in the booth had the barrier separating visitors from the actual grounds rising in a smooth motion.

                I revved the engine and slipped up the drive, silently cursing Trent for not telling me about the girls visiting. True, their presence would also indicate that Ellasbeth was around, but you could bear the thorns to enjoy the rose’s beauty, right? And Quen would sure to be around.

                I grimaced slightly at that thought. Hmm. Maybe this wouldn’t be as fun. Quen had tried to wrangle me into working for or with Trent and fill the security position that he had vacated in going with his daughter to the West Coast. I had declined the position but promised to still consider helping Trent with particularly difficult or dangerous situations.  Whether I had fulfilled my promise to Quen’s satisfaction was up in the air.

                Following the signposts to the visitor’s lot, I guided my Cooper into the closest spot to the house. Another security guard was making his way to where I had stopped, and I ignored him as I collected my things. Slinging my shoulder bag onto my shoulder, I got out of the car and nodded to the guard. “Hello! Is Trent in the residence?” I asked cheerfully. Okay, so I might have been annoyed at Trent, but nothing would stop me from being happy about seeing Lucy and Ray again. They had been away for months across the country.

                The guard nodded and I stepped quickly to the house. I only paused to tell him I would be holding on to my keys, thank you, before I was on my way once more. I had walked the route from parking lot to back rooms enough times now that I was comfortable with the halls. I still couldn’t get over the overflowing opulence that Trent had procured under one roof. I had to give it to the cookie maker – he knew how to show off.

                The hall opened into a spacious room, with low couches and a wide window that overlooked the old growth forest. I took a moment atop the short staircase to take in the deep green carpeting and dark brown wood that made the room homey. It didn’t take long for my patient enjoyment to melt into heartfelt excitement as my eyes fell upon two bright eyed and babbling girls – Lucy and Ray.

                “Aunt Arrr!” Lucy crowed, her bright green eyes having spotted me standing in the entrance of the room. She was sitting on Quen’s knee as he and Trent sat on couches in the center of the room. Ray was on the floor surrounded with wooden blocks that were quickly forgotten when she looked around for what had distracted her “sister”.

                The two girls didn’t share a drop of familial blood, but Trent, Quen, and Ceri had been raising them as sisters. Now that Ceri had died, the fathers had been sure to keep the girls together to keep something constant in their young lives. I was sure that having them live in Seattle with Ellasbeth rather than here at home was killer on Trent, but he bore it with heavy grace.

                Right now, though, he was positively glowing. The billionaire looked the picture of home living as he picked up a stray block on the couch and set it carefully in Ray’s hand. The weight of the world was far from his expression, even as he looked up and nodded at me.

                “You son of a –“ I called out, catching myself before I could swear in front of the young elven ears. “You didn’t tell me that Ray and Lucy were visiting? Couldn’t even drop a hint when you called?” My argument couldn’t be quite so heated as I made my way down the stairs and stepped into the recessed couch pit. There, I slid onto the floor with a very bubbly Ray on my lap and tucked her under my chin.

                “But you are just too sweet for me to stay mad at anyone,” I cooed, holding the little elf’s hands and bouncing my knees slightly. I heard Quen chortle from my right and I gave him a wide smile.

                “Sa’han, did you honestly call Rachel here without telling her we were here?” he asked. Lucy babbled along with him, nonsense words mixed in with names and what I thought might have been elvish.

                Trent sighed and I could see some of his weightless cheer dissipating. “I didn’t think that she would feel left out from the chaos of these two rascals,” he growled, moving to ruffle Ray’s hair. I flinched slightly as the motion brought his hand just under my chin, watching him warily. Things had been… awkward between the pair of us after he spilled parts of his soul to me in his spelling hut. That Al had jumped in and made the situation even weirder didn’t help our uncomfortable social dance.

                I moved my arms and let Ray tumble out from my lap, toddling around in short steps to collect her wooden blocks. They had painted designs that I recognized being done by Jenks and I realized they were the ones we had given Ceri while she was pregnant with Ray. A tightness clenched at my throat and I hesitated before speaking again.

                “Yeah, well you’ve never been the best at knowing what I want, Trent,” I grumbled tersely. Freed from the younger child, I half-stood and plopped on the couch next to Quen. I ignored Trent and turned to the older girl who was reaching out to grasp my shoulder. Lucy was quieter now than she’d been a few months ago, either the product of her young mind witnessing the loss of her mother or from Ellasbeth’s mothering skills, I couldn’t tell.

                I smiled at the sweet girl, her fair hair tucked primly behind her pointed ears. She lurched off of Quen’s knee and made her way to fall next to me, her head tipping to rest on my arm. I nearly died inside, feeling the old ache of the motherhood I would never have. Besides having the literal worst career to be in charge of a child, any child that I did have would be a daywalking demon, like me. I was born from witch parents with a common but deadly disease called Rosewood syndrome that is actually an age old curse put on demonkind by the elves. The curse was intended to keep witches from possessing the full magical power of demons and I would have died from it, but thanks to Trent’s father’s genetic tinkering, I was able to survive the genetic condition.

                Of course, everything was shifting now anyways. After Ku’Sox kidnapped a slew of Rosewood babies and gave them temporary relief from their disease, I had rescued them and strong armed Trent into doing the difficult thing and helping them to get the full cure. Right now they were spread about the country with their families under new identities, but in another fifteen to twenty years, they would be coming into their demon powers. Yes, the balance of power between the Inderlanders would change, but I still wasn’t certain if that was a good thing. Or if I could bear to bring up a child that was a demon like me.

                “Rachel?” Quen said loudly and I shook my head slightly. I had zoned out, staring at the two happy girls sitting between their respective fathers. Feeling self-conscious, I plastered a smile on my face and looked at Quen.

                “Er, yeah?” I asked. “Can you repeat that?” Lucy mimicked my motions, her petite face turning to look at Quen as she babbled to her “Abba” in cadence with my voice. She was going to be speaking in full sentences soon enough if she kept that up.

                The darker skinned elf made a face, but his tone was still good natured. “I said that I was going to take these two down for their nap before they got overtired.” It made sense, as it was just after noon and elves tended to nap for four hours at noon and midnight. However I had the distinct feeling that Quen was ditching me to let Trent talk at me about whatever it was he called me about. Jerk.

                I smiled ruefully and hugged Lucy around the middle once more before letting her get swept up into her adoptive father’s arms. She waved her hand at me with a final squeak of “Aunt Arrr” which I figured was supposed to be “R” for Rachel. Ray quickly joined her sister, sedately yawning and resting her head on her father’s ear.

                Quen gave a final nod to Trent and stepped out of the couch-pit. I head Trent give a sigh as he watched his daughter get taken away from him. Even though it was only to the next room, I knew it must have eaten at him. He had changed drastically since first “acquiring” his daughter from Ellasbeth’s family. He was fiercely overprotective of her and put on a fairly good show of pretending all his extra security was due to a renewed interest in his personal safety. I would be willing to bet my best running boots to say that it was the girl’s room was watched by Trent’s best men, not his.

                I watched the well-put man across from me as he slowly settled back into a business mindframe rather than his fatherly mindset. It wasn’t a seamless process, but then again I knew all of his tells. Once I thought he was collected enough, I spoke up. “So, what is it you wanted to tell me about even more than your _children_ visiting?”

                He only gave me a steely glance at that, his green eyes piercing. Oh, why did he have to look so _good_ all of the time? It wasn’t enough that he was rich and beloved by most of Cincy, but the elf had to go and be handsome beyond belief. The fact that I had an un-rememberable crush on him since my time in the Make a Wish camp only gave me a predisposition to enjoy his fair hair. It was tucked behind his pointed ears now, much like Lucy’s, which were now un-cropped after I had used a demon curse to repair his missing fingers.

                Trent’s expression remained vaguely irritated, but it was no longer directed at me. He looked over my shoulder and said in a low voice, “I need you to speak on my behalf to your demon.”

                Once again, I blinked in surprise. I sat up straighter and looked at him more closely. “You mean Al?” I asked. When he didn’t reply, I pressed harder. “You want me to talk to Al for you? Why can’t you just do it yourself? It’s not like he would ignore you. Mock you, maybe,” I mused. “But he would definitely take a summon from you.”

                He shook his head, his expression unreadable. “No, it has to be you. You’re the only person who can talk sense to that… demon.” He finished after a pregnant pause. I could tell that wasn’t what he was originally going to call Al, but I couldn’t find it in my heart to blame him. He’d lost a lot from my adopted kin. Somehow I always managed to forgive the Turn-blasted businessman for even the stupidest thing.

                I shifted in my seat, moving to a less casual position to mirror him with my elbows pressed to my knees and my hands clasped in front of me. “Well, this is pretty much one of the reasons why Al said you should join the collective. If you’re a part of it-“ I began to explain.

                He cut me off with a sharp hand motion. “No,” he replied harshly. “That is what this is all regarding. I will not step into their field and try to play their games. I’ve had enough of demon politics to last several lifetimes. I will not fall into the same mistakes of my ancestors and pretend I can bandy words with them.” His face was ugly, an old hatred crossing his eyes. It still hurt him, the fact that Ceri had died for the sake of politics.

                Frowning, I considered his words. While I wasn’t keen on being his messenger for Al, I could also understand his reluctance to step into the complex world of demons. On the other hand, simply ignoring an entire very powerful race that was suddenly aware of your existence and influence was _not_ a good idea. I had tried to ignore the fact that I had made waves in the Were community and nothing good had come of it. Come to think of it, I had made waves in pretty much _every_ Inderland and human community. Ignoring it had resulted in getting shunned or having assassins on my ass.

                “Trent,” I began in a quiet voice. “I get that you don’t want to give them power over you. But take it from someone who has tried to ignore the Ever After for the past three years – they won’t be able to forget you.”

                “Perhaps they should forget me!” he snarled in response. “When did it become my responsibility to take on the mantle of representative of the elves to that Turn-blasted hoard of murderers?” He still hadn’t looked at me, his eyes riveted to the ground and his two whole, healed hands wrenched about each other.

                I took a mental step back and tried to deflect his anger away from me. “I didn’t say you had to become anything of the sort, Trent,” I replied quickly. It was getting harder for me not to just blow up at him in response as he continued to be despondent. “I just said if you wanted to talk to a demon and get respect from them, you should do it yourself, not use a mouthpiece.”

                I was happy to be able to get in my aggravation of being just a messenger without resorting to the same argument we’d been having for the past three years. I would work with the cookie maker, but if he tried to use me as just an associate, then Trent Kalamack would be finding a new daywalking demon. _Oh wait._

                 He finally looked up from the carpet. His green eyes flared in anger, but the businessman regained control of himself a moment afterwards, his tongue darting out to wet his lips in a motion that shouldn’t have been legal. I breathed easier once he blinked and let out an exasperated sigh.

                “I wish it was that easy, Morgan,” Trent growled. Oh, so we were back to being “Kalamack” and “Morgan” again. I considered smacking him upside the head just for the hell of it, but his next statement stayed my hand.  “I don’t have the same freedoms that you have.”

                I raised my eyebrows in mild surprise. I had a bad feeling that this was all due to one very controlling and bitchy with a capital B elf woman from the West Coast. “You have as much freedom as you let yourself, Trent,” I breathed quietly.

                He didn’t respond to that, choosing to groan and rest his head on the back of the couch. It was better than being crumpled up in an angry ball, so I didn’t comment. I didn’t move from my spot on the couch, though I was tempted to see if there was still sparkling water in the fridge in the corner by the counter.

                Letting Trent sit there in his thoughts seemed to be the best choice. As I debated the appropriate amount of time to wait before questing for said sparkling water, his expression softened to mild annoyance. “Rachel, I don’t want to have to ask you to do this. I don’t enjoy it,” he said, looking at the ceiling. “But I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t, that I _couldn’t,_ let myself get mixed up in demons and their schemes.”

                Unspoken in his words was the promise he must have made to ensure that his children wouldn’t have to face the dangers that came with interacting with demons. I wondered if Ellasbeth had brought about the change, but I changed my mind as I watched his eyes casting about on the empty ceiling. He was afraid for his race, for his children. The simple prodding and complaints of the cold-hearted woman would not elicit the anger and frustration that he was channeling.   

                “Okay then,” I breathed. His head moved to look at me as I collected myself. I stood up and pressed the creases out of my jeans. “I’ll let Al know to stop pressuring you.” Trent looked relieved even as he scrambled to match my standing position. I waved away his extended hand, feeling my face flush slightly. Honestly, we had been making out in his spelling hut not so long ago and now he was going to shake my hand?

                “It’s no biggie,” I insisted. I didn’t know why I was suddenly in a rush to leave, but I did know I didn’t care to stick around for when Quen came back inside. Nor did I want to see the ever pleasant Ellasbeth, should she appear.

                “Still, thank you,” Trent said quietly, his green eyes much closer to calm and collected than angry and frustrated. I shrugged one shoulder, settling my bag onto it. His suddenly intense gaze on me was making me more confused and aggravated. I only wanted to squeak out a goodbye and head back to my safe church where I could sulk in peace.

                I nodded and turned quickly, feeling rather than seeing his disappointment at my quick departure. “Call me if you need anything else,” I said over my shoulder. My keys were in my hand as I waved. Trent was still standing in the middle of the recessed couch area, his expression blank. “See you later, then,” he replied smoothly.

                As I was leaving, I thought more of how afraid Trent had become of the Ever After. He would willingly separate himself from it entirely, even as the demons showed a modicum of respect for the huntsman elf he had been there. It hit me harder than I expected, leaving me with a sensation of being on the outside once more. As a self-proclaimed demon myself, it would only be a matter of time before Trent decided I, too, was a potential danger to him and his kids.

                The thought chilled me to the bone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness! I had a blast writing most of this chapter. I'm not sure how well I portrayed the whole Rachel / Trent dynamic, but I was hoping that the awkwardness felt more intentional rather than not and that Trent's fear of demons was equally rationally irrational. (If that makes sense!)
> 
> I'm loving where this story is going and I feel as though I've captured Kim Harrison's writing cadence well enough. I will be working on the next chapter within the next few day!  
> Cheers,  
> -Sarah


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had half of this chapter written for a good three weeks now and regrettably hadn't gotten around to finishing the second bit. I'm still not 100% pleased with the ending - I'll probably edit that tomorrow while I'm waiting for my experiments to run at work :P But! For all you patient souls, here is the most recent chapter of "Blood for a Silver Soul!"

                My drive to the church was uneventful. I can’t say that I was upset. I was less than prepared to face my lovely pixie tenants. While Jenks’s family is nice and all, they’re space not one for quiet. I was greeted with a relatively quiet household. The only noises that assaulted me were those of roughly one dozen pixie children. Compared to the five dozen that have lived there previously, this was a vast improvement. All that I could gather from their high-pitched keening was that their father was out of the house.

                As I collected my things and made my way through the entryway, I murmured my thanks to the pixie kids for giving me the message. I hiked my shoulder bag up and moved from the entryway into the main sanctuary. Though it hadn’t been a sanctuary for very long time, the space still seemed reverent. The tall stained-glass windows lined the walls and let in the early afternoon sunlight. Jenks had insisted on getting broken one fixed – a misfired black magic spell from one of my ex-boyfriends had caused the breakage – so that he could “sleep better at night.”

                The sanctuary had changed over the past couple of years. It now had Kisten’s old pool table and Ivy’s baby grand piano space creasing its hardwood floors. Though the pool table was technically mine, it was really both Ivy and mine's. We had both been Kisten’s girlfriends at one point or another. God, we were so weird.

                My fingers danced across the green felt, no longer torn or nicked. We had finally resurfaced the worn table after it had been totally burned by a coven witch’s spell, and I enjoyed the feeling of the smooth felt. Jumoke, Jenk’s dark-haired son, flew up and bobbed in my line of sight. His wings were a stoic blue and his dust flitted down in equally calm motions.

                “Ms. Morgan, my father wanted me to keep you informed about things at the church while he was out,” he said quietly. “I thought you’d like to know that Ms. Tamwood and Ms. Ledesma are in the rear living room.”

                I frowned at his second statement. If Nina was in the back of the church, it would be harder for the living vamp to keep her undead master from possessing her on the unsantified ground. Then again, I sighed internally, it wouldn’t matter much right now. The church was still blasphemed from Newt’s last visit. Getting it re-blessed the first time had been a pain. A second blessing by the same priest was sure to be out of the realm of possibilities. And all the numbers I’d called had hung up when I got to explaining that yes, I was a demon who needed her church to be re-sanctified.

                I nodded to Jumoke and slowly walked to the back of the church. “Thanks Jumoke,” I said in a blandly cheerful tone. I didn’t know what to make of Nina’s presence and I quite honestly didn’t want to think too hard about it. Ivy’s decisions were her own, but I didn’t have to like that she was dating the preferred mouthpiece of a severely demented master vampire. 

                Passing through the hallway that linked the sanctuary to the closed off living quarters, I stopped in my room to drop off my shoulder bag. Mine and Ivy’s rooms were converted from the church’s offices to two small, functional bedrooms across the hall. I didn’t bother to stop in my bathroom to check if my hair was still in its presentable braid. No matter what I did, I could never compete with the grace and beauty of either of the two living vamps hanging out in the back of the church.

                I strode into the kitchen, calling out to inform the pair of my presence. Both had of course heard me as soon as my car had turned onto the road, but I still wanted to be polite. My bland smile turned into a twinge of true contentment as I settled in behind the counter in my kitchen.

                I _loved_ my kitchen. Ivy had renovated it before she’d moved in and had spared no expense. From the dual ovens –no mixing spelling and cooking there- to the hanging rack that held my herbs and plants to the gleaming fridge with its blue-lit icemaker, the kitchen was a sacred place to any spelling witch. My slightly less attractive addition of a carved protection circle wasn’t as classy as the expensive furnishings, but it was equally as necessary. Safety when spelling was critical and it wasn’t like our landlord would complain. My magic had saved Jenks’ hide nearly as often as his backup had saved mine. He could tolerate some scratched linoleum if I could tolerate his kids’ odd keening that they were doing right now.

                “Alright, everyone making noises that could kill small dogs, get out of the kitchen!” I barked. “You’d think you were all raised in the outdoors.” I got the expected shrieking laughter at that comment, but they did leave in a flurry of dragonfly wings. Belle had yet to appear, but I was certain that she would be corralling the pixy children about and help Jumoke keep them in order.

                I massaged my temples and took in the relative silence. A soft noise from the doorway into the living room caught my attention and I looked up to see Ivy leaning against the frame. Her straight hair framed her slight Asian features, highlighting her small smile and bright eyes. She was in a good mood, then, and I had a feeling that the spunky DMV worker was to blame. “Hi,” she said softly.

                Smiling, I leaned back on the counter. “Hey yourself,” I returned. She smelled of dusky vampire incense and I allowed myself a brief moment of bliss. We’d both decided that us together wouldn’t work, but I could let myself enjoy the perks of being around a happy vamp. Then, I shoved the artificial relaxation out of my mind and nodded my chin to gesture behind her. “You and Nina having a nice afternoon?” I asked. They hadn’t been there when I’d left for Trent’s estate.

                She nodded slowly and her smile twitched wider. “We just got back from the house,” she explained. It was the safe house that Ivy brought Nina to frequently. The DMV worker, though strong in spirit, still needed to be watched pretty carefully to be sure that her urges remained checked. Having housed an undead had awoken stronger desires in Nina than the average living vamp had to deal with.

                “Ah, nice,” I replied. There wasn’t much I could say. Glad you didn’t have to knock her out? Hope the blood lust wasn’t too bad last night? Make any shadows? Ivy and I were friends, but her lifestyle was still a bit of a mystery to a non-vamp like me.

                She nodded blithely. “We were going to spend some time here before going out later. There’s rumors that that new skating rink –the one built near where Aston’s used to be?- is going to be opening tonight,” Ivy explained.

                Nina appeared silently behind the other vamp, her dusky complexion contrasting beautifully with Ivy’s pale skin. She rested her hand on Ivy’s shoulder and cocked her head to the side. “Is Rachel coming with us?” Nina asked in a quiet voice. “I think that would be…fun.” Her voice had paused before resuming with just a touch of raw sensual tension.

                I fought my hand from rising to touch my hidden vampire bite even as it tingled under the living vamp’s gaze. Swallowing hard, I pretended to ignore how the room was suddenly smelling a hell of a lot better with the younger vamp’s presence. Ivy seemed to tense and her nostrils flared in a telling motion. “I think I’ll pass, Nina,” I replied in a light voice. “I don’t think I’ll be any more wanted there than I was at Aston’s.” I fought to keep my voice from warbling, breathing slowly when I managed the task.

                With a smooth motion edging on the eerie quickness that she took pains to hide, Ivy pushed herself from the door frame and went to the fridge. I watched as she wordlessly poured two glasses of orange juice. Nina hadn’t moved from her position, nor had her eyes left me. It was unsettling, but as long as both Ivy and I were in control of how we reacted, there shouldn’t have been any reason we couldn’t keep Nina calm.

                “I think they would be hard pressed to keep a day-walking demon from doing as she pleased,” Nina pressed. She took a step forward, her motions smooth and predatory. Ivy intercepted the motion and handed her one of the glasses with a cold look in her eyes.

                “Rachel doesn’t want to come, Nina,” she said in a loud voice. “And she’s probably right about getting kicked out. The media still wants to blame her for the ley lines getting messed up a few months back.”

                I nodded in what I hoped was a relaxed motion. Propelling myself into motion, I went about the cupboards and picked out a few random bowls and cooking supplies. I’d figure out what I could cook or spell after the room stopped smelling like vampire incense and tension. By showing my back to Nina, I was trying to prove that I wasn’t afraid of her. Nope. Not at all afraid of the supped-up vamp with undead powers.

                “It’s fine, really,” I said between gritted teeth. “I swear that I will join you guys one night for something else. Just not tonight,” I turned and looked at the Hispanic woman. Her expression was less focused and more contemplative as she sipped the citrus drink.

                She pressed her shoulder gently against Ivy’s, seeming to gain more control in the subtle action. “You will?” Nina asked. She sounded genuinely surprised. Her predatory gaze had fallen away from the surprise. I nodded, feeling guilty for the situation in the first place. I’d been ignoring all of their invitations, sexually charged or otherwise, for as long as they had been tentatively dating, and I felt like an ass for never having actually taken them up on any.

                Ivy relaxed visibly and the tension in the room finally broke completely. "We will have to make sure that you don't get too freaked out by whatever daredevil thing Nna has next up her sleeve," she murmured softly into her orange juice. I rolled my eyes, though I was still a bit unnerved. Daredevil with vamps could be exciting or deadly.

                "No skydiving?" Nina pouted. Her brown eyes searched Ivy's face with such intent I knew that I had been essentially forgotten about. Ivy smirked and looped her arm about the latino girl's to bring herback into the living room. "We can plan something just as good," she promised. _Joy._

                I looked down at the cooking supplies that I'd ammassed. While I'd probably not need the colander, everything else was perfectly suitable for baking a cake. Opening the windows to let out hot air would also let the scent of vamp incense out of my kitchen and nose.

                I slid the colander back in its home by the sink. Since I was already there and the room was going to get hot as soon as I preheated the oven, I slid the window open. Fresh air from outside spilled in with a rush. Some pixies squealed and tumbled from their hiding spot on the curtain rod.

                "Argh!" One cried as he tumbled head over ass before righting himself in a flurry of wings. I chuckled and swatted him away with a weak motion. "Didnt't your mother ever tell you not to evesdrop? You'll only find trouble," I said with a laugh.

                "Yes ma'am," he replied sheepishly. One of his sisters called him something anatomically improbable and the pixy streaked away from my line of sight in a blur. Now I could look out through the screen into the garden beyond. The afternoon sun lit the yard up splendidly, my carefully tended plants reaching up to the sky in all their beautiful -or sinfully ugly, as the case sometimes was- lengths. Beyond the garden past the low wall was the graveyard. I could see Pierce's marker, the eroded angel still recognizable.

                I sighed unhappily, my moment of content musing turned dark. The knowledge that Pierce's soul was at rest didn't deter my wonder if he would one day just appear, strolling in from the backyard, shouting a tale of having fought off Al just to drop by and get coffee. The dark magic user had always surprised me from the moment when we'd met on the solstice. That he was truely gone, not just in purgatory, was a heavy feeling.

                Pushing those thoughts back to join the melencholy of the others that I'd lost, I forced myself away from the window. "Cake," I said aloud. A mission statement of something that I could accomplish to make today just a bit closer to normal. Moving with forced purpose, I gathered up the supplies and set about mixing and stirring the necessary ingrediants. I wrinkled my nose at the eggs that I took out of the fridge. The sulphites would give me a headache, but I hadn't picked up any egg whites from the store. I also reasoned that the fractional amount in the cake probably wouldn't be any worse than when I helped Trent down a whole bottle of wine.

                Bis appeared in the kitchen somewhere between the last bit of mixing and pouring the batter into the pan. He wrangled a scoop of the raw batter from the bowl before I could stop him, his wings moving up and down in a gargoyle chuckle. I scolded him with a smack from the back of the mixing spoon, which really only succeeded in giving the goyle more batter to snack on. He jumped up to the top of the fridge with his spoils after a quiet, “Sorry Rachel.”

                I balanced the cake pan in one hand as I wrangled with the oven’s door. Tugging it open, I slid the pan smoothly onto the racks and straightened to look at the apologetic gargoyle. “It’s really not a problem, Bis,” I said with a blithe smile.

                He flushed dark for a moment before returning to his normal grey coloration. “You just seemed mad, is all,” he admitted, his heavy claws shifting nervously. “For a while now, actually.” His bright red eyes darting furtively away from mine.

                Fully aware of the two living vamps the next door over, I did the smart thing and took a moment to think before I spoke. Yes, I’d been a bit testy lately. Work was harder than ever to get, thanks to the paper’s rumors about me being related to Ku’Sox’s cursing the ley lines. Add to that dealing with the loss of Ceri and the gain of a half-stable living vamp who was _also_ the girlfriend of my roommate and you have the mixings of a perfect piss-Rachel-off cocktail. Jenks’s kids were raring to move out in waves, making him something between irritable and elated, depending on the day.

                And I wasn’t moving anywhere. It stunk fairy farts.

                “It’s been a rough couple of weeks, Bis,” I sighed. With Nina nearby, I didn’t really want to get into talking about feelings with the goyle. His wings slumped, making a pang of guilt rush through me. Guilt and feeling left out. That’s what had constituted my life as of late.

                I walked over to the fridge and snapped my fingers in front of his nose to catch his attention. “Hey, rock head,” I teased, “I didn’t say that for you to get all upset. I am sorry about being a lump – an _angry_ lump- for the past couple months.”

                Bis nodded and settled more comfortably atop the fridge. “We just worry about you, you know.”

                “Coming back from Trent’s angry isn’t exactly unexpected,” I countered, opening the door to hunt for an open can of frosting. I had seen one last week leftover from some cupcakes that Ivy had baked to bring to the hospital.

                The gargoyle above my head laughed, an odd sound as it vibrated through the metal refrigerator. “I suppose that is true,” he mused.

                I closed the fridge after one last glance through the shelves. The frosting was nowhere to be found and that would throw an annoying kink into my cake plan. “Hey Ivy?” I called out. “Do  you know if that extra frosting from last week got thrown out?” I heard the television suddenly go quiet as she muted it, but Ivy still paused for a moment longer than necessary.

                “It got used,” she finally replied. I didn’t like the soft giggle that Nina made and I _really_ did not want any more information about just how it got used. “Ah, do you need it for something?” she continued after another pregnant pause.

                I started cleaning up chocolate coated bowls, piling them into the sink in a motion that was as much habit as fear of a disgruntled Ivy once Nina wasn’t around. “I was only making cake,” I replied teasingly. “I can leave it unfrosted for now.”

                “Are you sure?” Her voice was louder now and I turned to see Ivy was standing in the doorframe again. Her face was slightly flushed, like I’d caught her with her hand in the cookie jar. Hell, what did I care? It wasn’t even my frosting. “I can run out and grab some at the market. Then we can have some after lunch,” she offered.

                A cheer rose up from the pixies in the other room and a few swarmed in to dart about Ivy’s head. It was one of those moments when I wished I could raise one eyebrow –a talent I coveted- as I shrugged. “I suppose that’s settled.”


End file.
